"ANGELS COME TO BRING THEM HOME"

Upon a December’s dawning light
I heard your mournful cry indict
The mood of mirth in merry play,
The day angels took her away.

I heard your dirges made of love
Stir for a while the sky above;
The song of your lamentation
Departing with the final moon.

How long can a butterfly stay
Over the field’s bloom and decay?
Til vibrant petals wither down 
And be part of a fertile ground.

Oh we thought all good and sublime
Would defy the imposing time!
But all roads lead to the Maker’s truth
Though all that’s good seems headed south.

The toil of day shall face the west;
Souls, old and tired shall take their rest;

Mortal passing may not their doom,
When angels come to bring them home.

--Bag-iw Lumpias Gil .................
(Cordillera)

Prologue
REST IN PEACE Lola Cristina Bua-ay Bongalos, younger sister of my grandfather Bag-iw. She passed away a day after Christmas, at age 96.

This poem goes out to the bereaved, especially to my Dad. I know he didn’t only lose an aunt, he too lost his 1st grade teacher.